


The worst healing session of Geralt's life

by Ledgea



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: A tiny bit of angst in the beginning, Bickering, Healing, Humor, Injured Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Serious Injuries, Witcher Potions (The Witcher)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28111917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ledgea/pseuds/Ledgea
Summary: When Geralt falls unconscious, he knows that unless a miracle happens, he won't wake up again.So he's rather surprised to find Lambert, Jaskier and an unknown witcher at his side when he does in fact open his eyes.He soon regrets it though, because Lambert and the stranger's idea of healing isn't quite the same as Geralt's, and he has to suffer through some awful experiments.
Relationships: Aiden & Geralt & Jaskier & Lambert, Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 28
Kudos: 130





	The worst healing session of Geralt's life

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again!!
> 
> This time I decided to torture Geralt instead of Eskel, poor guy!  
> You'll probably find some gross medical inaccuracies, sorry for that... But as Aiden and Lambert don't really what they're doing either, everything works out... I hope!  
> Enjoy!!

When Geralt finally falls to his knees, having killed the two griffins he'd been hired to hunt yesterday, he's exhausted. He's bleeding from two deep claw marks running down his back, is almost sure that some of his ribs are bruised if not broken and he knows that he badly needs some White Honey to counter the potions' toxicity. His heart is beating way too fast for him, his breath is coming in short and he's feeling light-headed.

He still tries to get up, to head down the forest path towards Roach and his belongings and maybe Jaskier, if the bard had enough self-control to stay put this time. He hopes that he won't need to run after his friend, he's not sure he'll be able to be of much help right now. He manages to take three staggering steps forward before he falls back down.

This time he hasn't any strength left to catch himself and he goes sprawling on the ground. His nose painfully collides with a stone and Geralt moans as he feels it crack. _Fuck that shit_. If he was feeling just a little bit better, he would try to call for Jaskier, but he can't even manage that and he feels his eyes close on their own.

He has a few seconds to realize that unless a miracle happens, he probably won't walk away from this fight. He hopes Jaskier will have the presence of mind to burn his body and send his medallion back to Kaer Morhen. Eskel will curse him for leaving him alone with Lambert and Vesemir. He pictures his brother's unimpressed face in his head and he falls unconscious with a small wistful smile on his lips.

To Geralt's utter surprise, he wakes up again. He groans softly, takes a few seconds to take stock of his body and the first thing he becomes aware of is the pain. His back hurts, the top of his buttocks hurts, his ribs hurt, his left ankle hurts and his nose is throbbing but at least feels like it has been set. He's almost sure that he's naked and that his head is being pillowed in someone's lap, and he hopes it is Jaskier's and not some weird stranger's.

He finally opens his eyes after a few seconds, groans and tries to sit up.

“Stay the fuck down,” Lambert's voice startles him.

He's pushed back down by two hands on his shoulderblades and he doesn't manage to fight them off. He lies back down over the blanket someone put under him and he's glad to recognize Jaskier's garish clothes on the body he's using as a pillow. Gentle fingers end up in his hair and he lets himself fall back down into his friend's lap, reassured.

“Hey, how are you ?”, Jaskier asks him softly.

Geralt looks up to check on his friend and is so relieved to see him safe and unharmed. That doesn't stop him from rolling his eyes at the bard's stupid question.

“Just peachy,” Geralt growls back, “Could easily win a race against Roach.”

“Smartass,” Jaskier fondly says, “I'm glad to see you didn't lose your horrible sense of humor.”

Geralt offers Jaskier a tight smile before trying to catch Lambert's attention by raising his head and looking behind him.

“What are you doing here ?”, he asks his brother.

“Saving your pasty ass,” Lambert snarks and gently pushes his head back down.

“Not pasty,” Geralt grumbles and lets his head fall back down again.

“Whiter than snow,” Lambert snorts and Geralt makes an effort to flip his brother off, “We heard about the griffin contract, you were just lucky we happened upon you.”

“We ?”, Geralt asks, puzzled.

“I found the Swallow,” a voice Geralt doesn't recognize suddenly exclaims from nearby and he tries to turn around to see who's talking, “I think anyway. Might be expired going by the colour.”

Jaskier doesn't let him turn around though and he can only hear Lambert sigh behind his back.

“Who's that ?”, Geralt asks Jaskier.

“Aiden,” Jaskier whispers, “He's Lambert's friend. Lambert's your brother, right ? I didn't commit some serious mistake by letting him help ?”

“No, it's fine, he's my brother,” Geralt nods and groans when Jaskier still doesn't allow him to look behind him.

“Potions don't expire, moron,” Lambert growls at the stranger.

“Well, it's not supposed to be green either.”

“Did you experiment again and mix spinach into it ? Like you tried to do with Black Blood last year ?”, Lambert asks and Geralt would really like to know what is happening, because he doesn't want to end up _poisoned_ in addition to injured.

“White honey,” he then asks for, because he's not sure he can take another potion so soon.

“Already administered it some time ago. You're fine toxicity wise. Can even take some new healing potions,” Lambert answers, pats his shoulder and then adds for the stranger, “But spinach still doesn't belong into Swallow.”

“It's your batch, asshole,” the other witcher grumbles and comes to kneel behind Geralt.

He then bends over Geralt's back until his face ends up centimeters away from his own and offers him a smile as he introduces himself.

“I'm Aiden,” he chirps, “Glad to meet you.”

“Geralt,” he grunts out.

“Are you sure this isn't Willow ?”, Lambert then asks dubiously.

“Jaskier,” Geralt whines, somewhat afraid now, “Can't we use my potions instead ?”

“Hum... I left Roach at the beginning of the path up,” Jaskier apologizes with a small smile, “But I'm sure your brother and his friend know what they're doing.”

By the way they're bickering behind his back, Geralt really really doubts it.

“Unless you used the wrong bottles, this isn't Willow,” Aiden says.

“Yeah, but it looks like Willow. Maybe _you_ made a mistake,” Lambert pointedly accuses his friend.

“ _Excuse you_ , you were the one who replenished our stores last time !”

“Yes, but you said that this one looks expired, so it can't date back to last month and is probably older.”

“Can I have some other potion ?”, Geralt asks, “I'm sure I could get by with just some Kiss.”

“A potion that is _not_ expired preferably,” Jaskier mutters next to him.

“Shut up,” Aiden and Lambert growl at them and Geralt whimpers.

“Maybe I should leave you to go get Roach,” Jaskier muses, “It might be safer in the long run.”

“You are not leaving me with them,” Geralt hisses.

“Oh, give me that !”, Aiden exclaims, “I'll mix some Swallow with some White Raffard and it'll be fine.”

“No !”, Geralt exclaims.

“Yes,” Lambert contradicts him, “And shut up, you're injured, you need to keep your strength. Let us take care of you, you'll be right as rain in no time.”

“Here,” Aiden says and holds a vial of potions at Geralt's mouth, “It should do the trick.”

As soon as Geralt opens his mouth to complain and tell him to shove his mixed potions up his own ass, Lambert's friend shoves the vial between his lips, tips it and coos at him, encouraging him to drink. Geralt wants to kill him.

“I know,” Lambert says commiseratingly, “Aiden's bedside manners are utter shit.”

Geralt lifts his head to glare at his brother as he's forced to swallow, because Lambert doesn't seem bothered enough to intervene as his friend pours a horrible decoction down his throat.

“Shut up,” Aiden grunts, “You were lucky to enjoy my bedside manners two weeks ago.”

“ _You made me cry_.”

“I saved your life !”

“You're a healing nightmare ! I swear one day I'll find a herbalist who'll agree to take you on as an apprentice for some time and I'll leave you with them. Maybe you'll learn to be more gentle.”

“Fuck you,” Aiden laughs and then merrily slaps his hands over Geralt's back.

“What the... ?”, Geralt grunts and tries to turn around to glare again, before Lambert presses another vial to his lips and prevents him from moving.

Geralt recognizes Kiss this time and takes a small sip without complaint, before letting out a loud pained hiss as Aiden does something truly horrible to the wounds on his back.

“Is... Is this really how you're supposed to use that potion ?”, Jaskier warily asks as his fingers clench and unclench in turn in Geralt's hair.

“What is he doing ?”, Geralt asks through clenched teeth.

“I'm covering your wounds with Kiss.”

“What ?”, Geralt asks, suddenly agitated, “That is not how you're supposed to use Kiss ! Lambert, tell him !”

“Yes, it is,” Aiden contradicts him, “That was how I was taught.”

“Don't bother trying to change his mind,” Lambert says, “He's inflexible.”

“It's supposed to be swallowed ! Not smeared on the wounds !”, Geralt growls.

“Geralt, your back is looking very very red,” Jaskier comments softly.

“That's normal,” Aiden says cheerfully, “Lambert, can you give me my grandmother's oinment ?”

“Are you going to put some mouldy expired oinment on my back now ?”, Geralt asks in horror and decides to hide his face into Jaskier's thigh.

“No,” Aiden sighs, “Thank you, Lambert. The recipe is from my grandmother, the oinment is fresh.”

“And doesn't do anything,” Lambert mutters.

“Liar,” Aiden grunts as he lathers Geralt's back with his oinment, Geralt only lets him do it because Lambert doesn't actually sound concerned, “It helped with your nekkers' wounds.”

“Allegedly,” Lambert mutters.

And suddenly Geralt screams into Jaskier's thigh and tenses. His back is on fucking fire, his wounds burning from his shoulderblades to the top of his buttocks. He's vaguely aware of Jaskier panicking next to him and he forces himself to breathe slowly and regularly.

“What the fuck did you put in that thing ?”, Geralt asks between pants when he can speak again.

“Main ingredient is nettle,” Lambert says as he's helping Aiden wrap his wounds.

“Why did you let him put it on my back then ?”, Geralt growls, agitated, “You're both psychopaths.”

“Because, Aiden close your fucking ears, thank you,” Lamberts says and then whispers to Geralt, “It actually sanitizes the wounds quite well and works as a numbing agent too. I don't exactly know what he puts in there, more than nettle that's for sure, but it works. Hurts like a bitch though.”

“I hate you,” Geralt grumbles as he's manhandled to lie on his side, his head still resting on Jaskier's thigh.

“Of course,” Lambert condescendingly says, “You can stop closing your ears, Aiden.”

“Remind me to never get hurt in their vicinity,” Jaskier whispers to him, his face somewhat ashen.

“Remind _me_ too,” Geralt says and lets Lambert prod his ribs.

“I don't think that they're broken,” Lambert diagnoses and Geralt nods, “We'll wrap them too and you'll need to be careful for a few days.”

Geralt hums and stays still as they work. As Lambert promised, his back soon stops hurting and he pokes it experimentally. To his utter astonishment, it doesn't hurt. At all. He hums and wonders if the pain will be worth enduring the next time he'll get injured, if he can then numb his wounds that efficiently. He decides that he'll try to get the recipe out of Aiden and he'll make his mind up on using it again once he'll know what the man actually puts in it.

“Good,” Lambert finally sighs a few minutes later and throws a blanket over Geralt's body, “Just need to check your ankle and you'll be fine.”

“Wonderful,” Geralt answers drily, “Can I have something to drink then ?”

“Sure,” Aiden nods, smiles and rummages around his and Lambert's packs, before pressing a cup to Geralt's lips.

Geralt takes two sips of whatever Aiden is trying to make him drink and then starts to cough. He splutters, clears his throat and then whines, because his fucking throat is burning. He doesn't know why he trusted Aiden to just give him some water.

“Geralt ! Geralt !”, Jaskier's panicked screams echo around the forest and Geralt forces himself to find the bard's hand and squeeze, “What did you give him ?”

“Grandmother's infusion,” Aiden smugly says and Geralt is going to find that grandmother and _piss on her grave_ , “Helps the healing along and it'll put you to sleep in a few minutes.”

“I am going to eviscerate you,” Geralt groans.

“Nah, Lambert likes me too much to let you do it.”

“Lambert ?”, Geralt asks.

“Sorry, you can't eviscerate Aiden.”

“Cut him in two ?”

“No.”

“Roast him over a fire ?”

“No.”

“Dismember him ?”, Geralt pleads.

“No, dammit Geralt, I need him to warm my bed,” Lambert snaps and finally ties off a bandage around his ankle with a harsh tug.

Geralt hisses in pain and slightly turns back to glare at his brother. It seems that Aiden isn't the only one with no bedside manners.

“It's always so nice to know that I'm appreciated for my skills and my winning personality,” Aiden comments drily.

“Hey, you're a furnace, I hate the cold,” Lambert says and infuriatingly smirks at Aiden, “Not my fault your greatest skill is to be my heater.”

“I'm going to be sick,” Geralt mumbles.

His stomach is starting to get upset, probably because of the weird mix of potions he just ingested and the realization that his prickly little brother is literally flirting with a psychopath right over his injured body.

“See, I told you the Swallow was expired !”, Aiden exclaims, “And now he's sick !”

“Potions _do not expire_ ,” Lambert growls back.

“Says who ?”

“Everyone ! Not one of my alchemy teachers said anything about potions expiring !”

“ _Your Swallow was green_.”

“Still thinking that it was Willow and you didn't recognize it.”

Geralt closes his eyes and tries to breathe through the nausea, while the two idiots are bickering nearby. He really doesn't want to be sick on Jaskier, because he knows that his friend will become insufferable should he happen to get vomit on his clothes.

“Shhh,” Jaskier whispers as Geralt heaves and does his best not to throw up Aiden's horrible infusion, “Just calm down. You're fine. You'll be fine.”

Geralt miserably nods against Jaskier's thigh and he feels his eyes flutter close of their own volition. Aiden's fucking infusion seems to be working then and he hopes that he'll feel better when he'll wake up. Geralt doesn't bother resisting this new tiredness, Lambert and Jaskier are here and will take care of him, and he falls asleep listening to Jaskier's soft reassurances as he scratches his head and to Aiden and Lambert's heated bickering about their potions skills. _They're such morons_.

**Author's Note:**

> Silly sidenote : the grandmother can really be Aiden's grandmother or it can be the Cats' grandmaster who has been renamed much to his displeasure!!  
> Hoped you liked it!


End file.
